


A Homely Saturday

by mansikka



Series: Love, As Simple As This [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Comfort, Family, Fluff, Future, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21779227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Michael and Alex share a weekend together, holed up in their cabin listening to the rain.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Love, As Simple As This [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569577
Comments: 27
Kudos: 85
Collections: RNM NWaF Weekend 2019





	A Homely Saturday

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first of a three-parter for the NWaF Weekend on Tumblr. Who doesn't love an excuse for an overindulgence in fluff?

There is something so homely to Michael about the sound of rain. It isn't because it's familiar to him; Roswell isn't exactly known for an excess of precipitation. Nor is it because of nostalgic memories of raindrops falling against his old Airstream roof. It's because of Alex, who is responsible for so many of the happier moments in his life.

This one in particular is going to be something he takes out to cherish at times, of that Michael is sure. It's mid-August, and while this time of year is usually hot enough to even have Alex in only a t-shirt, there is a freshness to the air to accompany the deluge of rain. Which means sweaters, and blankets, and Alex draped over him on the couch like he's his own personal heater, which he _is_.

It's been raining for hours, and when he glimpses out the cabin window as Alex moves to make them more coffee, Michael thinks the sky is telling him the bad weather might be on for a few days. He and Alex have nowhere they need to be, having perfectly timed stocking up on everything they might need and having no obligations until after the weekend. So this moment, this moment is perfect, just the two of them together and nothing but the sound of rain hitting the cabin as their soundtrack. The steady patter against its windows and woodwork is soothing, adding to Michael's sense of calm.

"Do you want something to eat?" Alex calls. 

Michael takes another glance up at the sky then walks through to the kitchen, finding Alex with his head slightly tilted as he ponders the contents of one of their cupboards. "Sure. What do you feel like?"

"Something sweet."

Michael slips his hand up the front of _his_ long-sleeved t-shirt that Alex is wearing, mouthing up the side of his neck as he reaches for a shelf. "Well. We have everything we need to make smores."

"We need a _campfire_," Alex says, covering Michael's hand with his own and leaning firmer against him. "It's a little wet outside for that."

"We can make them right here," Michael replies, squeezing him in a hug from behind before stepping back and moving to turn the oven on.

"You're sure?"

Michael grins, coming back to steal a kiss, then turning away again to find a good-sized baking tray. Alex has got so much better at cooking since leaving the Air Force, though his culinary adventures are still fairly tame. To think he's never made smores in a kitchen before somehow _delights_ Michael. He watches Alex pull the ingredients they need from the cupboard, bringing them over to the counter he's laid the tray out on.

"Okay. Watch and learn."

Alex pops the bag of marshmallows and stuffs one in his mouth, doing the same to Michael as he chews. Michael chases his fingers for a second then presses a sticky kiss to his cheek, laughing for Alex screwing up his face in complaint.

"How many are we making?"

"How many can you eat?"

"All of them, I think," Alex says, flattening his hand against his stomach. Michael _loves_ it when Alex is in the mood for snacks. He can out-eat _him_ sometimes. He'd never thought it was possible.

"Okay. Well, you start snapping and laying out those Graham Crackers," Michael tells him as he starts to snap the chocolate into pieces. This is the good stuff, a brand Alex found as an import in a grocery store. They've not been able to even look at Hershey's since.

"You know. The last time I think I made smores was also with you?" Alex says, his face fixed in this beautiful expression of concentration that makes Michael have to get a kiss to his brow.

"Oh? When?"

"Not long after I came back here permanently. We sat outside your Airstream with a campfire, drinking beers and making smores. And talking."

"Mm. We've gotten better at _that_," Michael says, leaning back for another kiss as Alex moves behind him to lean on the counter by his side.

"We've gotten better at a lot of things."

Michael winks, purely for knowing the smile it will put on Alex's face, then takes a plate from the draining rack and slides it over to him. "Half on here, half on the tray."

As Alex lays out the Graham Cracker halves, Michael covers them in alternate marshmallows and chocolate. There are spare marshmallows left so he pops one into Alex's mouth before taking one for himself, then seals the bag and puts it back in the cupboard so they won't be a temptation. 

"I didn't get around to making coffee yet," Alex says, toying with Michael's shirt hem. _He_ doesn't need a sweater, and Alex took _his_ off for being wrapped up in his arms for most of the afternoon. Though they have spent much of that time curled beneath a blanket together. Alex moves so he's stood with Michael's back to him, wrapping Michael's arms around him to keep warm.

What have they even done today but talk? They don't even have a radio on, have just spent most of their Saturday curled up with one another talking about everything and nothing, needing nothing but each other's company to be content. A few years ago such a simple thing would have seemed impossible. But he and Alex are solid, and certain, like nothing else in Michael's life had been before _him_.

"So? You don't want coffee?" Michael says, with a kiss to his shoulder as he sways Alex in his arms.

"Maybe something a little stronger?"

"Oh?"

Alex slots his fingers through Michael's against his stomach though still manages to tug him across the room. He opens a second cupboard door pointing to a bottle of scotch that he favors, and the large bottle of industrial-strength acetone beside it. A _good_ strength that Alex specifically bought for him to drink. Michael tends to hide it whenever Isobel comes over, for it quickly becoming her favorite tipple. He knows Alex has also bought her a bottle, and has come home more than once to find Isobel and Alex draped in blankets on the couch watching some awful thing Isobel has got him into. Alex clutching a glass of this scotch, and Isobel sipping at this acetone with her eyes riveted to the TV screen.

"I know what I want, but what would you prefer?" Alex asks, turning just enough to get a kiss to his cheek in thanks as Michael opens a further cupboard with his thoughts and brings two tumblers softly clattering down to the counter.

"The hard stuff it is," Michael replies taking down both bottles. That Alex embraces, loves, and accepts all the parts of him, including all _these_ alien parts, Michael will never not relish in. He pours them both a generous measure still with Alex pressed back against his chest, then gets a kiss to the back of his shoulder before stepping away.

"What are we toasting for today?" Alex asks as he turns to face him with his glass already extended.

"Today? I think the rain. For giving us an excuse to stay home today."

"Well. We don't really need an excuse."

"No. But it's a good one."

"Then. To the rain," Alex agrees, raising his glass for Michael to clink against.

"To the rain."

The acetone goes down warm pooling a soft, soothing heat in his stomach. Michael takes another sip to savor and watches Alex do the same with his scotch. They check on the smores, prodding at the marshmallow to check it is the consistency they want. When it isn't, Alex takes the bottles of scotch and acetone through to the lounge, returning with half of his glass already drunk.

"Gonna be that kind of night, huh?" Michael asks as he pointedly looks at his glass. 

Alex shrugs, inspecting the contents of the fridge. "Maybe."

"We've got pasta left from Thursday that needs eating."

"The one with the sausage?"

"The very same."

Alex comes to stand beside him at the oven with the pasta tray, peeling back the food wrap. "So. If we put this on really low when we take the smores out, we can eat this later?"

"We could've had the pasta first, and something sweet after."

"Since when do we ever do anything conventional?" Alex asks, purposefully squeezing over the ring on Michael's finger. 

Michael raises Alex's hand to kiss over the ring he is wearing to match his own. "True."

Isobel had, of course, insisted on _some_ kind of formal celebration for them, organizing a hand-fasting ceremony for them in front of family and friends. The hand-fasting ribbon is on display in a mounted frame in their lounge along with some photos taken on the day. But these rings are special to them, forged from metal at Michael's scrapyard and made together by hand. With a little help from Michael's _powers_, of course.

"Or, we can turn the oven off and just put this in. We can eat the pasta later when we're really hungry," Alex says. "I don't really feel hungry. I just want to _eat_."

"Well. Smores are ready to put together," Michael says as he pulls out the tray. 

They make a mess of preparing their smores, oozing chocolate and marshmallow everywhere before they even get them on to plates. They don't even leave the kitchen to eat them for the chaos they've created, laughing in between bites. When they're sticky-fingered and the tray is empty, Alex decides he really isn't hungry just yet for anything else. He slides the pasta dish into the oven now the temperature is cooling, and dries the dishes that Michael has just watched.

"So? What are we doing now?" Michael asks. 

Alex drains his glass and nods for Michael to do the same, refilling them both when they return to the living room. Alex opens his laptop, and in seconds soft music that Michael recognizes as a certain playlist from their hand-fasting ceremony begins to fill the air in the room.

Without needing to hear a word, Michael first takes a sip of his acetone, then sets down both his and Alex's glass. He takes him in his arms and leads him to an open space on their living room floor, glancing at the rain through the window as they start to dance.

* * *


End file.
